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From: "classic rider" <classicrider14@excite.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Buckwheat Pancakes at the Diner (mm/forced/slurs/humiliation)
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Date: Sun, 12 Feb 2006 07:10:01 -0500
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This is a work of fiction. There is no reason to assume that any of its
characters are minors; nor is this work intended for minors. This work
includes force, homosexuality and racial slurs. If you are offended by
this kind of fantasy, please search for something else to read.

I was sitting at a lunch counter eating my burger and fries when a
group of black teenagers walked into the diner. The boys wore baggy
pants that sagged over their boots and their brightly colored baseball
caps were turned sideways.

One of them sank down in a stool at the lunch counter next to me, and
started hitting on the waitress. He eyed her name tag, "Yo Barbra, I
want some service; and I don't mean the kind you can do right here at
the lunch counter, neither."

His buddies started snickering and burying their heads in their arms on
top of the lunch counter. This only encouraged the boy, "On second
thought, maybe you can give me service at the counter; I aint shy about
it if you aint."

One of his buddies let out a loud whoop and clapped his hands loudly.
Another started pounding on the table.

The waitress turned red and hurried back into the kitchen.

I turned to the guy making all the wise cracks, "Can't you show the
woman some respect? She's working hard. Why do you have the hassle
her like that?"

The boy turned on me with eyes that could kill, "Mind yo' own
bid'ness and shut da fuck up muthafucka. I'll ram my boot up yo
azz."

Once again, his buddies burst into laughter. I felt my temperature
rise.

Never one to back down in a situation I gave him a cold stare, "Try
me, Buckwheat. You stick your foot anywhere near me and you'll be
limping for the next two days. I'll make you walk like an old man."

The boy just smirked. He rubbed his goatee, leaned back and plopped his
Timberlands in my lap as if I were an Ottoman for his easy chair. His
buddies burst out laughing but I was humiliated. I wanted to crawl
under the counter.

As the bottom of his dirty boots rested in my lap I felt my dick
getting hard at this humiliation.

He grinned at me with a wooden toothpick sticking out of his milky
white teeth. His teeth looked even brighter, set against his smooth
dark brown face. "Now what wuz it you wuz sayin' you wuz gonna
do?"

His friends fell over themselves laughing and slapping the counter.

I got up and went to men's room to dust the mud off of my pants. I
pulled a brown paper towel out of the dispenser, and tried to brush the
dirt away. I tried to be careful not to lean on anything because the
sink was covered with dirt stains and it looked and smelled like
someone had pissed all over the floor in front of the urinal.

As I wiped the last bit of dirt off of my lap, the bathroom door swung
open and slammed into me. The loud black boy walked in and was startled
at first, "Oh, my bad..."

Then he focused on my face, "Oh, it's yo muthafuckin punk azz.
Serves you right. Mind yo own bid'ness next time."

I fought down a smart reply, not wanting to cause any more trouble. He
seemed in a hurry to get to urinal. He brushed me aside, zipped down
his pants and pulled a thick long black cock through his red boxer
shorts. He let out a deep sigh, spread his legs wide on both sides of
the urinal and released a powerful blast of piss.

He closed his eyes and threw his head back. His mouth hung wide open as
he pissed. I thought, "The punk is defenseless. This is my chance."

I had to move fast; I acted without thinking. I grabbed the nigger from
behind and wrapped my forearm around his neck, choking him. With my
other hand I grabbed his thick black cock and made him piss all over
himself. I laughed while I watched him jump around in my grip, soaked
with his own ghetto piss. "Muthafucka, wha' da' fuck?"

His jersey and his pants were soaked with nigger piss. A switch blade
flew out of his jacket. I let go of his dick and snatched it from the
air.

I flicked the blade open, "You shouldn't carry one these; someone
could get hurt." I held the blade to his jugular. "You wouldn't
want to hurt someone with this would you?"

The boy just frowned. His thick black lips made an exaggerated pout. I
pressed the blade against his dark skin. "Since you like to use your
mouth to cause trouble, how about washing it off with my white cock? A
white dick will clean that nigger mouth of yours."

His eyes bugged out of his head and he turned his face as far as he
could toward me while I kept my forearm pressed against his throat.

He protested, "Fuck. I aint suckin no dick!"

I pressed the blade harder against his skin, "I don't think
you're in any position to tell anyone what you will and will not do.
Now get down on the floor and let's put those big lips of yours to
work."

He sunk to the floor, pouting. I held the blade against his neck and
unzipped my pants. My cock plopped out and I rubbed my thick white meat
against his black face, "Suck on that dick, Nigger!"

He looked ashamed, but slowly wrapped his thick lips around my meat. I
flicked the lock on the bathroom door. I grabbed the back of his head
with one hand and held the knife at his neck with the other. I started
pumping my cock in the boy's mouth.

My dick got hard in his mouth. I heard him choke, but I wouldn't let
up on him. I rammed my stiff white meat down his throat. I felt my dick
head hitting the back of his throat. I pumped in his face to make sure
he felt like a bitch being fucked.

His thick black lips felt good on my cock. I gave him deep hard thrusts
so I could feel those blubbery lips up and down the full length of my
hard white shaft. I watched my cock emerge and disappear in that black
boy's mouth over and over again. Just the sight of it made me even
harder.

I felt like cumming down the boy's throat. I didn't want that to
happen so soon, so I pulled my dick out. "Stand up and drop your
pants."

The boy slowly stood up while I jammed the knife next to his liver. He
undid his belt and his baggy pants fell to the floor. "Now get down
on your hands and knees over by that waste basket." He knew how to
follow orders and did exactly as I said. His bright silk red boxer
shorts hung loosely off his ass.

When he was on all fours, yanked the boxers off and exposed his black
ass. It was fine and smooth. A firm nigger ass. I spread the boy's
black ass cheeks and rammed my hard white cock deep inside of him. He
let out a yelp. I rode that nigger's ass.

I grabbed his shoulder with one hand and held the blade to his neck
with the other. I pumped my dick hard in his tight warm ass. That black
ass gripped my dick like a black woman's pussy.

I took my hand off his shoulder just long enough to knock his baseball
cap off his head. It fell to the floor. I grabbed his nappy braided
hair and yanked his head back. I humped his ass even deeper like a
cowboy riding a wild horse.

"Take that white cock, you loud-mouthed Nigger."

All he could do was moan, "Oh - Oh - Oh - Oh!"

I banged his ass good. My thighs slapped against his big firm ass
cheeks. My balls slammed against the underside of his ass. I pushed his
face to the floor and made him lick it. I banged into him like a man
raping a two-bit black whore.

I couldn't hold back any longer. I let out a loud cry and shot a load
of cum deep inside of him. My body shook uncontrollably. I shot three
more spurts, pumping thick jizzum in that nigger boy's butt. He took
it all, too. His black ass was dribbling with my thick white sperm.

I collapsed on his back, sweaty and exhausted. His big hard nigger cock
rubbed against the floor and pumped out jizz of its own. I was
surprised to see that the nigger enjoyed being dominated by a white
man. He looked surprised too. He lay on his belly in a pool of his own
cum.

I let my cum drain in his ass until my dick was soft; then I pulled out
of him. I zipped up my pants and got out of that restroom in a hurry.
As I left, I looked over my shoulder and saw the nigger still lying on
the floor with his mouth open and his pants down around his ankles.

He whimpered as the door shut after me.

His buddies were still at the counter, talking loud, laughing and
slapping the lunch counter. One of them asked aloud, "I wonder why
Tyrone is takin' so long?"

"You might wanna check on him," I mumbled as I slapped a tip on the
counter.

As one of his homeboys got up from his stool and strutted toward the
Men's room, I paid my bill and headed for the door.

I figured I made good on my threat. I'm sure that boy won't walk
straight for at least the next few days.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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